


running with the wolves

by angstlairde



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Dreams, Everything is Beautiful and Hurts Just a Little, Force Ghosts, Force Visions, Force dreams, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Galactic Road Trip, Gen, Light Angst, Light-Hearted, Living on a Space Ship, Loth-wolves - Freeform, Lothal, Road Trips, The Force, ghost dad, hahah its funny because kanan lived on the ghost and now he is one hahah, introspective, technically its a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 20:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstlairde/pseuds/angstlairde
Summary: alternatively titled: little wolf, come home...Jacen Syndulla is sure about many things. He is sure that is family loves him with all their heart. He is sure that he will never be alone, because every one in his family has been alone, and they will not let that happen to him. He is sure that he can weasle his way out of trouble with the right smile.He is sure about those things.What he isn’t sure about was why his father had to die.“Why did Daddy have to die?”“It was just his time, little wolf.”...or, the one where jacen syndulla goes on a journey of self discovery, and his best friend halcyon orrelios goes too for moral support





	running with the wolves

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAHHHHH THIS IS IT  
> MY BRAINCHILD IVE BEEN TRYING TO BIRTH SINCE THE SWR FINALE  
> IT LIIIIIIIIIIVVVVEEESSSS
> 
> i cannot thank every one of you enough for all the support and anticipation you've given me <333333 (specially you tea ;* you're the best)
> 
> This is unbeta'd, is you seen any glaring mistakes, please, point then out haha

It’s a strange thing, fate, and Jacen isn’t quite sure he agrees with it. Force abilities he had inherited, sure, but it wasn’t like his father’s. No, this was more like annoying Force dreams, and really strong intuition, with reflexes quick enough to make Halcyon jealous. Piloting skills he has in spades, luck and charisma are tucked in his pocket with extra hair bands, and a grin similar enough to his father’s that  _almost_  gets him out of trouble when applied correctly. He knows that he will never be alone; there is always someone to have his back no matter what, because each member of his family knows what it’s like to be alone, and they won’t let that happen to Jacen.

He is sure about those things.

What he isn’t sure about was why his father had to die.

“ _Why did Daddy have to die?”_

_“It was just his time, little wolf.”_

Jacen is pretty sure his mother still isn’t sure about it either. That is one reason why he needs to follow the wolves in his dreams. Sometimes he thinks he hates those wolves, huge and imposing, howling at him to follow. Other times he thinks they’ll show him his father, and that isn’t something to be disregarded.

But the wolves are trying to tell him something and it’s high time he listens.

 

* * *

 

 

_The sky is strangely blue and purple, blended together like Aunt Bine’s paints, and stars and constellations are painted in detail in bright gold, all of them connecting to each other._

_There’s a wolf in the sky, made of stars and stardust, and it looks at him, eyes filled with galaxies._

“Dume,” _it says, voice deep and resonate, reverberating in Jacen’s chest,_ “Young Dume.”

_Jacen doesn’t know what it means, and he can’t ask, his voice won’t work._

What do you want? _he wants to scream,_ what do you want from me?

“Dume,”  _it says again, and turns its tail on him, looking over its shoulder._ “Follow.”

_Jacen is following before he realizes he is. He’s not walking, just… floating along. They’re in a field, grassy and immense, and there are mountains in the distance. More wolves begin to appear, howling to each other, racing ahead of them and disappearing._

_Then there is only Jacen and the wolf._

_The wolf-made-of-stars is huge, two times taller than Jacen when it stops and waits for him to catch up. In front of them is the edge of a cliff, and to fall off that is to fall into hyperspace._

What’s going on? _Jacen wants to ask, but he never can._

_He knows what is coming by now, but it still takes him by surprise when the wolf pushes him over the edge, and Jacen is falling, falling, falling._

_This time he can see numbers in the vortex of stars, numbers and letters, coordinates._

_This time he can hear the voices clearly, and even though he has only heard his father’s voice in grainy, bad-quality holos, he recognizes it instantly._

“You’re my son, and I love you, and I am so, so sorry.”

“Dad!” _Jacen finally found his voice, and he can speak._ “Dad, why’d you have to die?”

_But it’s always too late._

“I am so sorry.”

 

* * *

 

 

He wakes with a jerk, sweaty and exhausted, and there is his mother, just like always. She looks sad as she combs her fingers through his messy hair.

“Was it the wolf dream again?” she asks softly, and Jacen nods, tiredly turning his face into her flight-worn hands.

“I heard Dad,” he says simply, and then sits up and presses his face into his hands. “He always says the same thing: _I love you, I’m sorry_. He always says  _I’m sorry_.”

Hera heaves a great sigh, and tries to repress the threatening tears. She’s done enough crying; Kana wouldn’t want that. But Jacen - her son, her baby - sounds so tired - so depressed.

He’s only twenty-one but he’s been through so much.

He looks so different, too. There aren’t that many Twi’lek/human hybrids in the galaxy, and the combinations of DNA are almost infinite, but she thought he’d have some sort of Lekku. Instead, he has pointed ears, and green splotches all over his Kanan-colored skin. His hair is mostly green, but the color has mellowed out, and there is streaks of brown in it, brown like his father’s. Ever since Jacen saw a holo of Kanan as a child he told her he wanted long hair too. And he does, long hair that doesn’t quite reach his shoulders yet, tangling together in front of his eyes. Sometimes when he’s working, he’ll pull back the top of his hair to keep it out of his eyes.

Sometimes he’ll grin at something, and turn those sea-blue eyes toward her, and Hera hurts at how much he looks like Kanan. (She’d rather him look more like his father than her.)

“Hey,” he says, low, and there it is, a surge of hurt that she hates, because he sounds so much like Kanan now, and she doesn’t want to hate it, because this is her son and she loves him, but sometimes it just hurts.

“You’re doing that thing, Mom,” he says, and his hand is sliding along the curve of her wrist. “Brooding.”

Hera tilts her hand to take his - his hands used to be so much smaller, half, a third smaller than they are now; they’re bigger than hers now - and gives him a smile.

“Sorry.”

Something flashes behind his eyes, and his mouth tightens.

“Don’t say that.”

He looks out the window gnaws on the inside of his cheek, the way he does when he’s thinking.

“Talk to me, little wolf. What’s going on?” She asks, and reaches to comb her fingers through his hair again. Jacen leans into her hand thoughtfully.

“I need to go to Lothal.”

She’d had a feeling he would say that, actually. All these dreams about wolves… his father… it had to be pointing to Lothal. He hasn’t spoken to Ezra about it, as far as she knows, but she hopes her son will find the answers he’s looking for.

“Then go.”

Jacen looks at her, the tip of his left ear twitching in surprise. Hera gives him a look.

“Jacen, these dreams have been bothering you for weeks. If Lothal is where you have to go, then go. You can take the  _Spirit_.”

A look of determination passes over her son’s face that she recognizes as her own, and a look of purpose she recognizes as his father’s.

“I will.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“…and Jacen is going to Lothal in a few days. Crazy kid’s gonna run himself into trouble one day.”_

_“Maybe he’s following his father’s footsteps.”_

_“Come on, Lex, he_ is  _his father. You and I both know Jacen could never keep his green nose outa trouble.”_

_“Do you think he’s going to find wha-”_

“Hal, what are you doing?” Danys demands petulantly, far too loudly for Halcyon’s current position.

“Shut  _up_ , Dany!” Hal hisses, clamping a furry hand over her adopted brother’s mouth. A look of righteous indignation comes over his face and he bites the palm of her hand. She bites back a curse and yanks her hand away.

“Daddy says don’t eavesdrop, Halcyon,” Danys tells her, taunting, and skitters away, out of Hal’s searching grip.

“Get outa here, you little insect!” She throws the words after the retreating boy’s back, and rolls her eyes, pressing the bit mark to her mouth, and goes back to listening at her fathers’ door.

_“… ’s been listening at the door the whole time, you know that, right, Zeb?”_

_“Of course I did. She’s gonna bust through the door in three, two - ”_

Hal slams the button to open the door, and trips over herself as she enters.

“One.“

Alexsandr Kallus and Garazeb Orrelios stand facing the door, Zeb leveling a look at their daughter, but Halcyon Orrelios is a force of nature and can’t be stopped.

“Look, before you say anything, I have to go with Jacen,” she fires off, in the same accent as Zeb. “He’s my best friend,” she pleads, “and if he’s going on an intergalactic speedertrip of self-discovering, I  _have_  to go.”

Kallus rolls his eyes, and says,

“We were going to let you go, you know. You didn’t have to eavesdrop.”

“But Dad, I -”

Hal stops, eyebrows furrowing, and her ears twitch.

“Wait, I can go?”

Zeb nods, and looks kind of miffed, but Hal can’t bring herself to care, launching forward to tackles her fathers in a bear hug.

“I’m gonna go pack!” She yells, halfway down the hallway and tripping over her mamy little brothers and sisters.

Kallus shakes his head.

“She’s going to end up starting a war.”

Zeb lays a heavy arm over his shoulder.

“Yeah, well, Jacen’ll be there to pull her out of it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jacen jerks a hand through his tangled hair, vaguely wonders  _where the hell is a hair band_ , snags a shirt from the floor, sniffs it, deems it clean enough, and throws it over his shoulder into his bag. His mind is a million lightyears away, everywhere at once, and he can’t quite focus on such a menial thing as  _packing_. A few taps on the metal door pulls his mind out of hyperspace, and he wanders over to mash the button to open the door.

Halcyon Orrelios stands in the doorway, all of her five feet, six inches, projecting more self-confidence than Han Solo, ever, a mop of reddish blonde curls set haphazardly between her very Lasat ears, and elbowing each other for space over and in front of her honey brown eyes. She waves a four fingered hand, furry on the back, human skinned on the palm.

“Thought you could use some moral support,” she says by way of greeting, with this small grin like she’s unsure if her presence is wanted.

Silly Hal.

Her presence was always wanted.

Jacen grins at her, and steps aside to let her in his room.

“How’d you get past Mom, then?” He asks, and she knows that he’s happy to see her.

Hal flops onto his bunk and kicks her legs up, dropping her bag on the floor.

“I bribed her.”

Jacen shakes his head, and resumes packing.

“Naturally.”

Then Hal sits up, props her head against her hand, and sobers.

“So what made you decide to go?”

Jacen’s hands still against his spray paints, and she sees the line of him tense. He stays silent, and she waits.

“The wolves in my dreams… they’re trying to tell me something. I hear my father, I… I have to go.”

His shoulders slump when he finishes, like it was a load off his shoulders.

“Well,” Hal says, and squares her shoulders. “I’ve always got your back.”

Jacen turns around, and there’s a little smirk on his face, and his green-streaked hair is a mess, and it almost hurts to look at him in that moment because he burns so bright.

“I hope you’ve packed enough. I think we’re gonna be gone for a while.”

Hal beams at him.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Jacen? Jacen Syndulla, you come down from there!”_

_Jacen was seven-years-old and perched on the gun turret of the top gun of the_ Ghost _, grinning down at her._

_“It’s fun, Mom!” he laughs, and Hera shakes her head, hiding a smile._

_“Be careful!” she calls. “I don’t want you falling down from there!”_

_Jacen laughs, and pulls himself up, blancing on the left turret, one hand on the clear dome, the other waving at her._

_“See, I’m okay!”_

_“Yeah, we’re okay!”_

_Hera hadn’t seen Sabine before, but now she saw the Mandalorian balancing carefully under the top turret. She gives Hera a two-fingered salute and goes back to watching Jacen._

_A gust of wind makes its way into the hangar where the Ghost is parked, pulling at Jacen’s hair, and tugging at his clothes._

_Hera sees the next events in slow motion, and she is helpless to do anything: more wind sweeps through the hangar, pushing at Jacen’s feet, his hand looses grip on the dome, his feet are knocked loose, and the wind is going to push him away from Sabine._

_The wind stops as suddenly as it started. Sabine_ _isn’t looking at him. He’s too far away from her. Sabine’s head jerks up suddenly like someone shouted her name. Her eyes widen as she sees Jacen fall. There is no wind, but Jacen is_ pushed  _into her arms, and she catches him, and immediately, his bottom lip starts wobbling and his eyes fill with tears._

 _Sabine flies them both down to the ground._ _Hera kneels as Sabine does, and takes Jacen, who fists his hands in her collar and tucks his face against her neck, under her lekku._

_Sabine puts a hand on Hera’s shoulder, and looks wrecked when Hera looks up at her._

_“I - I’m so sorry, I never should have let him up, I wasn’t even looking - but I heard you call me, and -”  
_

_Hera looks sharply at Sabine, but not because she is angry._

_“I didn’t call your name, Sabine.”  
_

_The Mandalorian goes very, very still, and looks at Hera very, very carefully._

_“But.. if you didn’t call my name…” she didn’t have to say the rest of the sentence because they both were thinking it._ Then who did?

_It doesn’t take either of them long, but Hera is the one who says it._

_“Kanan,” she breathes, almost too quietly for Sabine, and she swears to this day, she saw Kanan’s reflection in the hull of the_ Ghost _, and felt his hand on her shoulder.  
_

“I’ll be with you always. With both of you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hal wanders into the cockpit wearing one of Jacen’s tee-shirts. Jacen gives her a look, and she just tips her chin up, cocking a hip to one side, and asks,

“Something wrong?”

Jacen shakes his head, and focuses his attention on the controls in front of him.

“You’re wearing my pajama shirt.”

“Oh is that what this is?” she asks, looking down at herself, and pulling at the hem of the shirt. It was laughably too big on her, considering he had a whole foot on her height. “It’s soft. I like it.”

Jacen rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms.

“Yeah, that’s why I wear it to sleep in. Now it’s gonna smell like you, Hal, and I just want it to smell like my pajamas.”

Hal sniggers, and flops into the copilot’s seat, kicking her Lasat-shaped feet up onto the console. Jacen reaches across to flick her toe.

“Feet off the dash, Orrelios.”

Hal sticks her tongue out at him, but tucks her feet under herself instead. She props her chin up on the palm of her hand, and flicks an ear.

“So. Where we headed?”

Jacen sends her a smile that looks like his father’s in that old holo of him, and Hal chomp the inside of her cheek.

“Lothal,” he tells her, “the long way round.”

 

* * *

 

 

They land on Coruscant first, after leaving Ganthel. Hal has never been before, and she’s prancing around, head tipped back so far she’s nearly falling down, and Jacen has had to catch her several times within the first ten minutes. While they wait for the Spirit to refuel, they go exploring, and look for lunch. They don’t go too many levels down, stopping their explorations when delicious smells haul them to this place called Dex’s Diner.

It’s not much more than a hole in the wall, and their waiter assures them this place is only half its former glory. Hal and Jacen share a look when he leaves. Only half? Yikes.

They order savory Menko sausages on bread soggy with grease, and a sweet, sticky red drink, sweeter than anything either of them had tasted before, sweeter than the meilooruns Jacen’s mom loves so much. The booth they sit in is springy, and has mysterious stains on it that they take turns guessing at what it was while they wait.

Jacen laughs so hard in that three-quarters of an hour - he feels so much lighter around Hal, his best friend, who he hadn’t seen in months, until she showed up at his doorstep, straight from Lira San. He’d forgotten the way she smelled - like Uncle Zeb, but… sweeter. He didn’t know how to explain it, but he never really minded when she wore his clothes.

The look of awe on Hal’s face that dawned when they landed hasn’t dimmed. If anything, it’s gotten stronger, the longer they sit here in the sun, in the diner that was bustling with the lunch rush, as they lick grease from their fingers, and tell stupid jokes to each other.

Neither Jacen nor Hal are in any rush, even when the owner tells them they need to leave if they aren’t going to order anything. Because this is the most relaxed Jacen has been in probably years, and Hal hasn’t been this happy in years, and even though they draw stares, the hybrids, laughing too carelessly, but neither of them care.

They’re two of a kind, Jacen and Hal, the half Twi'lek and the half Lasat, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Neither would Hal, judging by the blissful expression on her face.

They pass an empty alley, and Jacen gets an idea. He stops in his tracks, a slow, sly smile spreading over his face, and Hal crosses her arms.

"Oh, no, I know that look. What are you thinking?”

Jacen holds up his bag, which was rattling with spray paints.

“Empty alley. Plenty of paint. Me and you.”

He wiggles his eyebrows, and Hal actually giggles, bouncing on her toes, and grabbing his hand, pulling him into the alley.

He lets her pick her colors first, and she grabs deep blue and purple. Jacen takes green and a sea blue color, sketching out a starbird on the wall, with fire works exploding behind it. He laughs when he looks at Hal’s.

**HAL WUZ HERE**

They add their own touch to Coruscant, already a hodge-podge of people, and cultures, and languages, and its loud and exciting, and nothing like either of them are used to.

It’s exhilarating.

The Spirit has been refueled for almost two hours by they time they make it back, sun-drenched and laughter-infused. Hal’s scent is warm and drifting off her in waves, and it’s going to fill the Spirit, but Jacen doesn’t care - he’d drown in it, and happily.

Jacen pays for the refueling as Hal checks the ship. He’s signing the forms when he hears a,

“Jacen!”

And he finishes signing his name with a smile on his face, and turns around to see Hal standing at the top of the ramp, the sun falling in her eyes, making her curls look more golden than ever and her eyes are glowing honey warm, and Jacen can’t quite look at her.

She grins at him, baring her sharp canines, and throws a thumb over her shoulder.

“Everything checks out. Shall we head out?”

Jacen suppresses a smile, biting his lip.

“Unless you want to stay longer,” he offers, and he didn’t have to be a Jedi feel her exhilaration. It subdues, though, and she scuffs her toes against the ramp.

“I don’t want to slow you down. You don’t have to do this for me.” Even though she has never been, and this is the best experience of her life. Even though this is the happiest she’s been. Even though he’s standing there with his green-and-brown hair hanging in his face looking at her like - like - like  _he thinks she is worth his time._

He gives her a stupid little smirk, and shakes his hand, dragging a hand through his hair.

“‘Course I do, Hal.”

And Hal can’t stop the splitting grin from spreading all over her face, and she launches herself at Jacen, barreling into him, sending him stumbling back a few steps. He laughs, deep in his chest, and she laughs too, because she can’t help it, and presses her fanged smile against his shoulder.

Jacen is warm and solid, and the sun is warm on the exposed fur of her back, and Coruscant is alive around them, and Hal thinks for the first time, she is truly alive.

 

* * *

 

 

They spend the night in Coruscant, and Jacen can’t take is eyes off Hal, even as she can’t take her eyes of the city.

 

* * *

 

 

_“I’m so sorry, little wolf. But I had to protect you both.”_

Hyperspace is a kaleidoscope of blue and white, and his father’s words resonate in his head. Jacen groans, tired of all this, wanting to be able to sleep again. He presses his face into his hands and takes a deep breath.

Thankfully, he hadn’t woken Hal. She had collapsed in a happy heap on the bunk in the only cabin aboard the  _Spirit_.

Jacen ties back the top of his hair, and leans over to call his mom.

It doesn’t take long for her to pick up. She probably has been waiting for him too call. It is only a few hours after dawn on Ganthel, if his watch is right. His mom always was an early riser.

“Hello, little wolf,” she greets him, with a happy smile. “How’ve you been?”

Jacen grins.

“Good,” he tells her truthfully. “I’ve been good.”

Hera beams at him.

“I’m so glad. And Hal?”

Jacen nods, and ducks his head.

“She’s good.” He laughs. “We stayed on Coruscant all night. She was practically floating. Hal’d never been, you know.”

Hera nods.

“Yeah, I know. It’s not like you’ve been a whole lot,” she teases. Jacen snorts at her.

“Yeah, but I just went, what two years ago? With Bine and Ketsu. I took her to the art museum, too.”

One of Hera’s eyebrows arch primly.

“And how’d you pay for that?”

Jacen ducks his head again, sheepish, but grinning.

“We didn’t.”

Hera tries to look stern, but fails spectacularly.

“You, sir…” she trails off, pointing  a finger at him. Her voice softens with her face. “Look just like Kanan.”

Jacen looks at his green-splotched hands. He knows. He gets that a lot, but it never sounds judgmental, or like there’s a legacy to fulfill when it comes from his mother. She justs sounds… sad, but glad he does, that his father’s legacy isn’t lost. He himself is proof that Kanan Jarrus’s sacrifice was not for nothing.

“Dad said something different tonight, in my dream,” Jacen begins, still looking at his hands. “He said he did it - died, I guess - to protect you and me.”

When he looks up, Hera is looking at him gently.

“Yes,” she says quietly. “He did.” She stays silent for a beat, and then - “I tried to go to him, you know. That night. He stopped me, and there was something so fiercely protective about him… he said he had something to tell me, too, but he never said what it was.”

She looks up at her son, who is staring at her intensely, carefully, softly.

“He knew,” she says, certain. “I know he knew.”

Jacen smiles, and starts to reach for her, when he remembers that he is a hologram to her, and she to him.

“I miss you,” he admits, and he sees her try to reach for him, too. She settles for a smile instead.

“I know. I miss you, too, little wolf.” Her smile grows wider and more playful. “And tell Hal I said hello.”

An indignant squeak shakes loose from behind the cockpit door, and Jacen turns around with a grin to see Halcyon peering in, and turning dark purple. Her fur was messed up from sleep as she wanders in sheepishly.

“Hi, Hera,” she says, and Hera purses her lips, trying not to smile.

“You sound like Zeb,” she informs the half-Lasat, then looks back at Jacen. “Well, I have an academy to run. Call me soon. Love you both.”

And her hologram cuts out.

Hal hovers just behind the pilot’s chair. Jacen sends her a look that says,  _why are you being like this?_ so Hal tucks herself into his side like she likes, settling still sleep-warm against him. Jacen curls an arm around her shoulder, fingers absent-mindedly combing through the grayish purple fur on her shoulder, and Hal shivers.

“Everything good?” She asks, and Jacen makes a sound in his throat she knows means yes. “I’m sorry I eavesdropped,” she tells him in a rush, but Jacen just shushes her gently, and keeps brushing his fingers through her fur.

“It’s fine. You know it.”

She hates that she eavesdrops. She hates that she does it to her best friends, to her family, her parents. She’s ruined surprises, gifts that way, but she can’t help it. Hal tucks her face into Jacen’s neck, hiding it in his loose hair.

“Hey,” Jacen says softly, and his fingers move to her hair, scratching gently against her scalp. “You okay?”

Hal shudders, overwrought with emotion, and presses closer.

Jacen shifts, pulling her legs across his lap, and puts his arms around her waist. He knows her so well. He knows when to talk, and when not to. It has nothing to do with his quasi-Force abilities, either. It’s strictly him being her best friend. Knowing what she’s like, how she works.

And it kind of kills her inside how gentle he is with her.

She hates that she’s like this, tiny and miserable, and she just wants the happy feelings from Coruscant back.

"Hey, hey,” Jacen murmers, rubbing his fingers down her spine. “Hal, what’s goin’ on?”

Hal takes a deep breath, pulls herself together.

“It’s okay,” she tells him, tilting her head back to look him in the eyes, “I’m good now.”

And she is. She  _is_.

“Just… don’t shut me out,” is all he says, flicking a curl out of her face.

Hal promises.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Little wolf, come home.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Ryloth is hot and dry and Hal hisses in distaste, even as Jacen stretches, his tank top revealing a strip of abs above his shorts. He grins at her and ruffles her hair.

"Wha'sa matter, Orrelios? Is Ryloth too much for you?"

Hal looks at him, a thundercloud on her face.

"Lira San is nothing like Ryloth. I'm made for colder planets."

Jacen aims a flick at her, which she dodges.

"And I'm made for warn, dare I say, hot planets. Let's go, Grandfather is waiting."

Hal huffs, crosses her arms, and trudges along a few paces behind Jacen's long strides. He is happy to be on Ryloth, no matter his tremulous relationship with his grandfather. Ryloth agrees with him.

Cham Syndulla is waiting with crossed arms next to a couple Blurrgs. Hal stopped in her tracks, mouth dropping open.

“Jacen, there is no way in hell I am riding that thing.”

“First of all, Hal,” Jacen says, as he catches her arm and hauls her along, “Blurrgs are easy to ride, and also, they take offense at being called  _things_. Second of all, you’re riding with me,” he finishes in a low voice, as they near his grandfather.

“Hello, Grandfather,” he greets, his tone suspiciously free of mischief. Cham grunts.

“Jacen,” he says, voice free of inflection. Hal doesn’t like it, ears twitching back against her head. Jacen, however, remains annoyingly cheerful.

“It’s good to see you again. You remember my friend, Halcyon Orreilos?”

Cham turns his back on them, adjusting the reins on his blurrg.

“No.”

Hal hisses through her teeth, but Jacen’s hand on her arm squeezes in warning.

“Well, this is Hal. She’s my best friend. We’re going to Lothal,” Jacen tells him in short sentences that prod Cham. The tip of his left lekku flicks in what can only be described as annoyance, and mounts his Blurrg.

“Then why are you here?” he asks, and starts riding away.

Jacen mounts the Blurrg, and holds out an expectant hand to Hal, who stands with her hands on her hips, glaring at the back of his grandfather.

“How is he related to you and your mother again?” she grumbles as she settles behind Jacen.

Jacen laughs, short and to the point, but doesn’t answer her question.

“Grandfather’s been through a lot, you know,”  he tells her, yelling over the wind. Hal scoffs.

“Like your mother hasn’t? She isn’t a dick just because she’s been through stuff.”

Jacen sends her a semi-reproachful look.

“Don’t call him a dick.”

Hal huffs, and tucks her chin against his shoulder.

“Blurrgs stink,” she grumbles, and Jacen laughs again.

It doesn’t take long to arrive at the village. Cham is waiting for them, along with Numa and her wife, and other members of the tribe. They dismount, and while Jacen is greeted by the adults, Hal is swarmed by the little ones, bombarding her with questions in both Basic and Ryl. Hal sends him a frantic look of panic as she is hauled away by the little Twi'leks, but Jacen is being escorted away in the opposite direction and can only send her an amused, apologetic look. There isn't much he can do to save Hal from her fate, as there isn't much he can do about his. 

The adults and some of the older teenagers take him into the largest building, and they fill him in in what's been going on. Then Jacen tells them about the academy on Ganthel, and about his piloting lessons. His grandfather doesn't say much, just sits aloof in the shadows of the fire. He tries not to let it hurt him.

When its time to call the kids in, Jacen steps outside too, ducking his head to hide a smile when he stops Hal sitting surrounded by the little ones, telling them a story about one of the missions the Spectres went on. Despite all her griping and groaning, Hal was great with kids. It probably had something to do with all her brothers and sisters.

“Hal,” he calls softly, and she looks over at him. She grins, baring her canines, and stands, brushing litle Twi’leks off her as she does. She saunters up to him and weasles her way under his arm.

“Ever had food from Ryloth?” he asks, knowing full well she hasn’t. Hal’s grin grows wider and she shakes her head.

“You’re gonna love it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jacen sits crossed legged as the rising sun reaches out with tentative fingers, searching for shadows to banish away. It pushes the cold desert night away and settles around his shoulders like a blanket.

He breathes.

The door to the building behind him rattles open, and Cham Syndulla strides out to stand a few meters behind him.

Jacen opens his eyes.

“Good morning, Grandfather.”

Cham grunts, and Jacen closes his eyes as a wave of disappointment washes over him. Neither of them says anything.

His grandfather’s feet crunch on the ground as he shifts his weight.

“Why are you here?” he asks, and Jacen can’t help thinking that at least his grandfather was talking to him. That was progress. Jacen swallows and finds his voice.

“Because I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

Cham grunts again - his standard answer, apparently.

“If I wanted to see you, I would have come.”

It’s hard for Jacen to see that. Cham was his grandfather - the only biological paternal figure he has - and he wants nothing to do with his grandson. To say it stings in understating it - it genuinely hurts.

The next words that come out are quiet and small.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

They take Cham by surprise, as much as he wants to hide it.

“I - I don’t hate you.”

The words stumble out of his mouth awkwardly and trip at his feet.

“Sure seems that way.” Jacen refuses to look at him, angry tears stinging his eyes and he hates that. “You barely look at me. Barely talk to me. Pretty sure you were happier when I wasn’t here.”

Cham shifts again, and he’s embarrassed and ashamed.

“I - did not think you wanted me around. Your mother... your father did not like me.” Jacen is pretty sure that wasn’t what he was going to say, but the words surprise him. To hear his grandfather of all people talking about Kanan Jarrus -

“He didn’t like you because of the way you treated Mom,” Jacen says, and really, he doesn’t mean for his voice to sound so accusing, but  _it does_.

“I though you did not want me around because of the way I treated her - I thought you were like your father that way.”

It sounds like he’s just making excuses now, and Jacen hates excuses, lies. Just empty words that mean absolutely nothing in the long run,. Why waste the breath on meaningless words?

“You’re my  _grandfather!_  You’re the only biological father figure _I have! Of course_  I want you around!” Jacen explodes suddenly, scrambling to his feet, sand scratching at his hands.

Cham looks taken aback, and he can’t look at Jacen - his grandson.

The anger melts out of Jacen as quickly as it came, and he drops to his knees again.

“I just - you make me feel like I’m not wanted,” he mumbles, the words directed at Cham’s feet, where the sit there incriminatingly. Cham tentatively sits on his knees, and reaches out to put his hand on his shoulder.

“I - I’m sorry.”

A deep breath makes its way through Jacen’s body, sliding down from the top of his head and ending at his toes. He looks up.

“I know.”

It isn’t quite forgiveness, but it is something close, and it is good.

It’s progress.

Progress takes time.

And that’s okay.

Jacen stands and Cham follows, and when he turns towards the door, he sees Hal standing in the doorway. She ducks her head sheepish, and turns away, but Jacen chases after her. He catches her arm and holds it loosely. They’re in a side hallway, dark and quiet, and he can hear her breathing.

“Hal,” he begins, but isn’t quite sure what he wants to say. 

“I eavesdropped on you again,” is what she says and she sounds so frustrated with herself.

Tension drops from Jacen’s shoulders that he didn’t know was there. Before he can think about it, he hauls Hal into a hug, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“It’s okay, Hal, I swear.”

Hal is soft and pliable in his arms, and she molds against him, fingers slowing knotting themselves in his shirt. It hurts him in his heart how doubtful she is of herself, and of his friendship with her.

“Your my friend, Hal,” he tells her. “I’ve always got your back, no matter what.”

She tilts her head back to look him in the eye, and her pupils are wide in the low light, the amber of her irises contracted to thin rings. Her ears flick.

“I know,” she says softly, but its like its a revelation, and she only just realized this. Jacen smiles, soft and quiet.

“Good.”

 

* * *

 

 

The  _Spirit_ is messier when they land on Yavin IV than it probably has ever been in his mother’s hands, Jacen thinks sheepishly, as he gathers up candy wrappers and foil from greasy, fired food, and dirty clothes. There is no way he is going to let Poe see the ship in this state.

He will never hear the end of it.

Naturally, Hal is leaning nonchalantly against the wall as she watches Jacen work, and tosses a gum wrapper at his head.

“You missed a spot,” she grins, and Jacen shoots her a look.

“You could help?”

Hal laughs.

“No way, laser-brain. Not my ship.”

Jacen stands up, straightening to his full, and leans over her, propping himself up with one arm against the wall.

“But you are my passenger, so pull your own weight,” he tells her, in a low voice, bending his head to lean his head closer.

“Well that shouldn’t be much,” a voice quips - a voice belonging to Poe Dameron, because who else - and Jacen jumps away, startled. 

Poe busts out laughing, and snorts,

“You should see the looks on your faces!”

Jacen does glance at Hal, who’s turned dark purple, and is resolutely not looking at either of them, and Jacen is pretty sure his face is a weird mixture of red and darker green.

“What the hell, Poe? You could knock?”

Poe snorts again.

“Like that has ever worked.”

Jacen rolls his eyes and takes a step back from Hal. Something changed on Ryloth... something between him and Hal... and he wasn’t quite sure how it changed, but it definitely had.

Poe moseys up to the two of them, and throws an arm around their shoulders.

“Well, anyways, it has been way to long since I’ve since you two idiots. What’s happening?”

 

* * *

 

 

Jacen and Hal fill him in on what’s been going on over spicy enchiladas Kes made, and then Poe told him all about his studies at the academy on Hosnian Prime.

“And I have my own squad, now!”

Jacen cuts in with a “Oh, really now?” And Hal leans over to stage-whisper “Jace, he’s replacing us, I guess we have to replace him now.”

Poe shoots them a glare and continues his story.

“It’s not official, but we’re roommates, and I think we’re gonna end up our own squad. Kare Kun, she’ll be my second, she’s from Naboo and will kick your ass, man, in air and on land. Muran, he’s a -” Poe clears his throat, and scratches the back of of his next, and Jacen raises an eyebrow at Kes, who gives him a knowing look and nod - “he’s a great pilot, a little stuff sometimes when it comes to flying, but he can crush your asses at sabacc. Iolo Arana, he’s Keshian, he’s just, he’s great, okay, I dunno what we’d do without him, he’s basically our mom friend.”

Kes snorts a laugh behind them as he serves up seconds and Java juice.

“From what I’ve been told they need a mom friend,” and Jacen and Hal nearly spit their juice out as they start laughing. Poe turns red - an unfortunate genetic gift from his father - and smack both of then on the back of the head.

“You all suck, okay,” he tells them, around half an enchilada in his mouth. Hal regains her breath and leans her ams on the table.

“So, when are we going to meet Muran?” She asks, an impish tilt to her grin. Poe groans and buries his head in his hands.

“ _Ay por dios,_ ” he grumbles, and drags his fingers through his curls, but there’s a smile pulling at his face. Kes walks by and ruffles his son’s hair.

“He hasn’t been this bad since Nallie Pry when he was seven - or Kep Durl'o when he was twelve,” he informs them all, and Poe looks like he’s either going to cry or laugh or murder his father later, while Hal and Jacen laugh their heads off.

This is almost as good as Coruscant - a different kind of good, but still good.

Best friends on either side, a father figure to keep an eye on them, and amazing, mouth-watering, rip-the-skin-off-the-roof-of-your-mouth-it’s-so-spicy homemade food - this was a life.

Sunlight streaming in the window, settling around their shoulders like a sleepy Loth-cat, laughter warming the air and spilling outside, smiling so hard, and so much it hurts, it hurts to be this happy, and Jacen wouldn’t trade  _any_ of this away.

Not Poe Dameron, excelling at the Academy, with his own squad, and maybe he wasn’t officially in charge, and he hadn’t graduated, but there were amazing things for Poe in the future, and Jacen didn’t think anyone needed the Force to see that. It was in his smile, and his stance, and the way he believed so whole-heartedly in the good, the good of the galaxy, the good of the people it contained. Jacen had seen him betrayed and broken, but look where he was now - happy, and maybe a little in love, and things were good for him.

Not Halcyon Orrelios, first child of many, with the respect and admiration of her little siblings that made them listen to her, even though she was smaller than most of them, and with the strength of the stars in her blood, and stubborn, and pig-headed, and loyal to a fault. She deserved the world, the stars, the galaxy, and should never, ever have to suffer through anything. Gods know she’d struggled, with herself, with others, felt like she had to prove herself, because… because why? Jacen didn’t know, but he knew this trip was just as important for her as it was for him.

The sunlight filters through the air and catches the strands of hair, loose from his bun, and he rakes his fingers through his hair, trying to fix it, but only making it worse. He turns his head, and Hal is watching him, a glint in her eyes he hadn’t seen before. She jumps a little - only enough that he would notice - but she doesn’t look away, holds his gaze, and Jacen finds his mouth is dry.

“…so I was thinking you kids could go out an explore again before you two have to leave,” Kes was saying as he washed dishes, and Poe dried, and Jacen and Hal scrambled up to help put them away. Kes glanced at the three of them. “What do you think? Sound good? Or I guess you could try and fix those swoop bikes in the garage?”

The three of them catch each other’s eyes, and they share the same grin.

“I think we’ll figure it out, Dad,” Poe tells him, and then they are racing out the backdoor like they used to when they were kids some half a dozen years ago.

There were two rusty swoop bikes sitting in the garage, a little sad, a little messy, but easily fixed. Between the three of them, the bikes were fixed in no time at all, and even though there were three of them, and two bikes, it was never a question who rode with who. 

Poe threw a leg over the seat, tosses a grin over his shoulder, and shot away, even as Hal settles behind Jacen, her arms tight around his waist. She digs a thumb into his rib, and is shouting,

_“Go already!”_

as they shoot out of the garage after Poe. And just like that they are kids again, without a care in the world, staying out way too late, and getting caught in the rain, and telling stupid jokes, and Jacen thinks he hasn’t been this happy in a long time.

When they stumble back inside, tripping over each other, and muddy, and laughing, Kes is waiting at the table, three mugs of steamy hot Yavi cocoa in front of him, and they collapse into chairs, and Kes starts telling them stories about the Rebellion, and when Poe was little.

There’s something warm and solid and heavy curling in Jacen’s gut, and he isn’t quite sure what it is, but he likes it -  _a lot_. It’s a comforting, and it’s almost overwhelming, and he wants to cry with the strength of emotions that are everywhere on this planet, and concentrated right here in this spot. Kes, and Shara, and Poe, and the  _Rebellion_ , and for all the terrible things that happened in that war, Yavin IV is  _overflowing_ with the best of the Rebellion.

(Jacen has a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with the Force tree growing huge and tall in the backyard.)

He’s  _so godsdamned happy_.

And the only way he can be any happier, is if his mother and father were there with him.

But they aren’t here, but Hera Syndulla is easily reaches, and Kanan Jarrus has always been watching him - that Jacen had no doubt of - and he’s going to Lothal, because he knows -  _he knows_  - he will find answers, and more importantly, his father.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Mom!”_

_Jacen’s voice echoed and carried across the soft hills of Lothal._

_“Mama!” he called again, and Hera maneuvered herself out of the Ghost, and slid her goggles up on her forehead.  
_

_“Jace!” she yelled, and waved from her perch. Jacen is ten-years-old, still young enough to call her_ Mama _sometimes, but old enough to learn how to fly and fix things.  
_

_Her green-haired son was running up the slight incline the duracreet pad rested on that makes up their landing pad, a few meters away from Ezra’s tower, and the way he scrambled up and over, using his hands, reminded her of both herself and Kanan, when they were younger. He dusted his hands off, and propped his fists on his hips, and tilted his head back to look at her. Jacen grinned, apparently pleased with himself._

_“Sabine and Ahsoka are back!”  
_

_Hera froze._

_“And Ezra is with them!”  
_

_Hera was moving before she knew what was happening, scrambling down the side of the ship as quickly as possible, scraping her palms as she went, and Jacen grabbed her sides when she landed._

_“Whoa, careful!” he said, in a manner that was entirely Kanan.  
_

_She laughed once, shaky, and rested a palm on his shoulder._

_“They’re coming. See?” He pointed a finger in the sky, and sure enough, Ahsoka’s red ship is cresting over the horizon, and Hera can’t breathe.  
_

_“I can’t believe it,” she breathed. “Ezra’s up there?”  
_

_Jacen nodded, and gave her a smile that hits home. He leaned into her, and it didn’t escape her notice that he was almost vibrating with excitement. Jacen hadn’t ever met Ezra, and that made her sad, but he’d been told stories about him, and he had told her that he felt like he knew Ezra. That made her happier than she could ever say._

_The ship landed with a loud hiss, and then the ramp lowered, and it was taking so long, Hera wanted to run over and pull the ramp down the rest of the way._

Ezra was home, Ezra was home, Ezra was home!

 _The ramp hit the duracrete with a light thud, and then the steam cleared, and there he was, standing there, taller than Ahsoka now, and his hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he looked scrappy, and in need of a good meal, but he was_ Ezra _._

 _With a cry, Hera rushed forward, and Ezra met her halfway, and wrapped her up in a hug. She held him tightly, Ezra, who used to be so much smaller, a boy, practically her son, and she had lost him within days of losing Kanan, and he was_ home _. Hera laughed once, a little hysterically, and Ezra pressed his face to her shoulder, and there were tears leaking out of both their eyes, and she couldn’t believe it._

_“You’re back,” she said, pulling back, and cupping his face in her hands. “You’re home!”  
_

_Ezra grinned at her, and nodded - his bangs were shagging, hanging in his eyes, but -_

_“Well, your haircut certainly looks better than Kanan’s did,” she joked weakly, and he laughed once, a little wet, and then looked over her shoulder.  
_

_“Is that...?” he trailed off, letting go of Hera, to walk to where Jacen stood watching. Jacen’s lips parted and his eyes widened, and he took half a step back, looking behind Ezra to his mother, then skirting to Sabine, then Ahsoka, and back to Ezra.  
_

_“You’re...” Jacen couldn’t really speak. Ezra was his hero, second to Dad, and now he was kneeling in front of him, just as in awe of Jacen, as he was of Ezra.  
_

_“And you’re - hi.”  
_

_“Hi.”  
_

_Ezra looked back at Hera, then Sabine, then Ahsoka, back to Jacen, then back to Hera and raised his eyebrows._

_“I still can’t believe you two had a kid,” he told Hera pointedly, then looked back at Jacen, still apparently in awe. “You have green hair.”_

_“You have a scarf,” Jacen replied, skeptical. This was Ezra Bridger? Well, it kind of fit with what Bine had told him. Ezra Bridger, who states the obvious. Ezra Bridger, who trips over his own feet. Ezra Bridger, who somehow saved Lothal. “Do you have a lightsaber, like Dad’s?”  
_

_Ezra gave him a look - one that reminded him of Mom’s - and pulled a metallic, kind of rusted cylinder from his belt and held it out._

_“What kind of Jedi do you take me for?”_

_Jacen narrowed his eyes at Ezra, and tried to recall everything he knew about him. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was,_

_“You don’t look much like your pictures.”  
_

_Ezra grinned at him, and it felt like they were sharing a joke._

_“Neither do you. The only picture Sabine had was one when you were younger.”  
_

_Jacen rolled his eyes._

_“Well, duh. It’s been three years. Mom’s teaching me how to fly the Ghost!”  
_

_Ezra’s eyes lit up, and he looked behind Jacen to Hera’s ship sitting on the pad. He knocked into Jacen lightly with his elbow, and pointed to the ship._

_“Come on, you gotta show me around!”  
_

_Jacen grinned, and took off running towards the ship, shouting,_

_:Race you!”_

_“Hey! Get back here, you little cheat!” Ezra yelled as he took off after him, and Hera crossed her arms, shaking her head fondly at her boys. Sabine sauntered up next to her, and bumped her.  
_

_“He hasn’t changed a bit.”  
_

_Hera’s smile grew wider._

_“I think he’s changed more than we know.”  
_

 

* * *

 

 

“Coming up on Laikeer, better strap in,” Jacen informs Hal, as he flips a couple switches. The half-Lasat slides into the copilot’s chair, and straps in.

“I always hate this part,” she groans, gripping the upper straps and staring hard at the ceiling.

“What, entering realspace?” Jacen asks, with an amused look. He’d always liked it, the jolt as the ship and his body slowed down from faster than the speed of light to regular speed. Hal nods, looking pained, and Jacen snorts a laugh.

“Why are we even here?” she asks, a little petulant, and annoyed at being woken up from her nap.

“Refuel, restock.” He counts the words out on his fingers. “We’re only two jumps from Lothal, but I didn’t want to have to stop away until we get there. Besides, I figured we could use some time on land.”

Hal hums, not really wanting to agree, but he does have a point, and they’ve been stuck in this ship for three hyperspace jumps since they left Yavin. It’ll be nice to stretch their legs. Jacen had been practically glued to the pilot’s chair the whole trip, making calculations and flying manually. A break will be good for him.

“So what’s Laikeer like, then?”

Jacen wiggles his head as he thinks.

“Wet,” he settles on, and flashes a grin at her. “You should love it.”

Hal wrinkles her nose. Wet isn’t her favorite thing, but it has its upsides. Like  _Jacen’s shirt sticking to his chest_  washing the dirt off her. Or something. Whatever.

Jacen’s fingers are quick and adept as he flies them into the planet’s atmosphere, curling around the throttle, flipping switches to make their ride smoother, and Hal gulps and looks out the viewport.

Laikeer is thick with heavy gray clouds, and  _Spirit_ cuts through them like a knife, splitting them open until it breaks through and enters clear air, clear, and a luminous from the two small suns filtering through the clouds. It isn’t raining currently, and Hal really hopes it stays that way until they leave, but weather can never be trusted, so she isn’t really sure. There’s rolling oceans beneath them, gray and green, and black sand of the shore calls them down. The bits of land are small, isolated, and mostly sand, and connected by bridges. She’s pretty sure they cook something out of the sand, and that’s why there’s anyone here at all, but... it is pretty, in its own way. She’s found most planets are.

 _Spirit_ lands easily on the shore, a long walk away from the nearest little village, and Hal knows she imagines the crunch sounds of metal on sand. Jacen stands up, brushes himself off, and grabs his belted trench coat from wear it hangs on an unused lever, and throws it on.

“Coming?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder at her, and Hal stands, staring in horror at his coat.

“Wait, you actually  _wear_ that?”

Jacen looks offended as he looks down at it, and looks back up.

“I like it,” he says, indignant. His plain green shirt is half-untucked and rumpled, and his goggles hang around his neck. His pants are tucked haphazardly in the tops of his scuffed boots. His hair is falling out of his bun and frames his face. A patch of green bleeds through his scalp and colors his temple.

“You look like an  _di’kut_ ,” Hal informs him, ignoring the indignant sound he makes, and rushes past to the hold where she can lower the ramp. Jacen takes his time to follow, and drops a yellow leathery jacket on her head.

“You might wanna wear this,” he tells her as he saunters down the ramp. Hal glares at his back, and tugs the jacket off her head to look at. She sniffs it once, carefully. It smells like... Jace. And a little bit like Poe. And something else she can’t quite place, that she hasn’t smelled before. A gust of chill wind blows into the hold and she shivers. He’s probably right. She throws it on, and chases Jacen across the black sand.

“Why do you have so much leather?” she asks. The yellow sleeves are too long and cover her palms. Jacen glances at her. The wind whips his hair into his eyes. He lifts a shoulder.

“I like it,” he offers, and it feels like a partial answer, but she’ll take what she can get. He likes to give vague answers sometimes. She figures it’s part of his Jedi lineage.

The people are not anything she’s ever seen before, gray skinned, webbed fingers, large black eyes, and apparently humanoid where it counts. There aren’t many of them either, and she wonders if it’s just because of were they are on the planet, or if there are just... not many. They speak heavily accented Basic, and there are a few humans interspersed with the Laikeerians, which is handy when Hal tries to buy them supplies, and struggles to understand. She doesn’t feel too bad, though, because the Laikeerian can’t really understand her accent either. Jace, apparently, has no problem getting fuel. It makes her grumble at him when he slouches with one elbow on the containers of fuel, and drawls,

“What took you so long?”

Hal glowers, but she can’t mean it when there’s a smile pulling the corners of her lips. She pushes past him with the crate of supplies, shoves her shoulder against his side, and starts the long walk back to  _Spirit_. She hears Jacen laughing behind her, and his boots crunching in the gravelly sand as he pushes the containers of fuel.

The chill wind dies down, and a warm wind from the northern hemisphere pulls at their clothing. Jacen tips his head back and squints at the sky.

“Rain, do you think?” Hal asks, tilting her head to the side. Jacen frowns.

“I dunno. Probably. They get a lot of rain here.”

Hal hums in response, and they keep walking in silence.

One sun has set by the time they reach the  _Spirit_ , and the other is not far behind, the air glowing warm, but charged, and Jacen feels it tingling on his skin, and glances at Hal, who’s fur on the back of her neck has puffed up, standing on end. Neither of them say anything as they load the crates, and Jacen hooks the  _Spirit_ up to refuel. When he finishes, Hal isn’t in the hold, and he follows damp, sandy footprints down the ramp and around to the front of the ship, facing the ocean. 

Hal stands just out of reach of the waves, hands on her hips, and the line of her is tense. Her ears flick as she hears him approach.

“Hey,” he says, and bumps her shoulder lightly with his. Hal looks at him, tearing her gaze from the rolling ocean. She smiles a little.

“Hey.” Her nose wrinkles up suddenly, and she just as she says, “I think I felt a raindrop.”

They are suddenly caught in a roaring downpour, and they are instantly soaked. Hal’s fur is slicked down with water, her hair plastered to her forehead, and Jacen’s clothes stick to his skin, and the sheer force of water knocks his hair loose.

And he laughs.

He laughs, tips his head back, only looking back down to the ground when Hal yanks on his sopping sleeve to get his attention. She has to yell over the roar of the rain in their ears.

“We’re soaked!”

Jacen laughs again, loud and happy.

“I’d noticed!”

“What are we gonna do about our clothes?”

A grin splits Jacen’s face in to.

“Take ‘em off,” he suggests, and immediately shucks his ridiculous coat, yanks off his shirt, kicks off his boots, as he runs towards the ocean, and undoes his belt, and steps out of his pants and underwear all at once.

It’s a testament to how long she’s been friends with Jacen that she doesn’t question it once, but immediately follows suit, dropping the yellow jacket to the sand, pulling her tank top over her head, and stripping out of her pants and underwear to run after Jacen.

Their clothes are a trail back to their ship, and Jacen doesn’t really care if anyone saw them strewn across the beach, but when he turns around to see Hal stomping through the waves after him, his mouth goes strangely dry.

Obviously, he knows she is half-Lasat, and half-human, and most of the time, her Lasat-ness is the most obvious, large ears, fur on her back, the backs of her arms, hands, legs, neck, stripes of fur across her face, Lasat-shaped feet, and instead of five fingers, she has four, the last two looking like they are welded together.

But the rest of her - well, she is definitely human where it counted. 

Hal stops across from him where he stands in waist-deep water, and swallows. And then she falls backwards into the water, kicking a splash of water into his face that left him spluttering for breath. Honestly, anything she does left him breathless. 

It wasn’t really fair.

“You just  gonna stand there?” Hal taunts, surfacing and shaking the water off her face, spraying Jacen. He grins, and launches himself towards her, tackling them into deeper water, and pulling them both under. Hal kicks off, using his legs as leverage, heading back towards the shallower water, but as she tries to get her feet back on the ground - 

She can’t, it’s too deep, and she can’t - she can’t swim, and she can’t breathe -

Jacen moves before he realizes what he’s doing, and catches her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to him, his own feet planted firmly on the sand. Hal wraps her legs around his waist, and her arms around his shoulder, and hides her face against his neck, coughing as she tries to catch her breath and calm her feelings of panic.

“It’s okay, I got you, I got you.”

Hal shudders as his fingers comb through the fur on her back, fingertips brushing her spine, and presses closer. The water is cold, but his skin is warm.

“You okay?” Jacen asks, and his voice is strangely gruff and quiet - he hates that he completely forgot she couldn’t swim. It occurs to her that the rain has stopped. She nods.

“Do you want to stay in the water?”

His fingers keep brushing against her back.

“Can we - can we go in?” she asks, and she hates how small her voice is, how weak it sounds.

“Absolutely, no problem,” he assures her, and starts wading back towards the shore, Hal still curled against his chest. He doesn’t mind - not at all, especially since she isn’t very heavy at all.

Still, even if she was, he wouldn’t care.

He walks them both onto the shore, and past their clothes, still strewn on the beach haphazardly, towards the open, but slippery ramp.

“But,” Hal begins, confusion in her voice, “our clothes.”

Jacen lifts a shoulder, and slides his hand across her shoulder blades.

“I’ll get ‘em later.”

He doesn’t falter once on the wet metal ramp - his footing is too good for that - and goes straight to the cabin, and deposits her gently on the bed. Hal grabs his hand as he turns away to stop him.

“Jacen,” she says, and her voice breaks on the second syllable of his name. He stays half turned away, and scrubs at his chin with heel of his hand. He gives her a hesitant, almost sheepish smile, but it’s - a question, one that he’s afraid to ask.

_Are you sure?_

_Can I stay with you?_

_Please?_

“Come ‘ere,” she whispers, hoarse, overcome with emotion, and tugs at him slightly. She can see it wavering in his eyes:  _yes, no_.

And then all hesitance is banished from his face, and his mind, and he lets her pull him closer, on top of her, and she tucks his face under his chin, and Jacen feels like the hole in his soul is filled almost completely.

“Okay.”

It’s a dream state when Hal’s fingers trace up his dripping shoulders and neck, to tangle in the hair hiding the tips of his ears. It’s hazy and Jacen can’t quite resist Hal when she’s looking at him that way, her golden eyes blown wide, so he tips forward, and presses his mouth lightly to her’s just to see what happened.

He was not expecting her to dig her fingers into his skin and kiss him, brusing and feral.

But unexpected was good, especially when it came to Hal.

(Though, looking back, perhaps the circumstances they found themselves in wasn’t totally unexpected.)

 

* * *

 

 

_Jacen mirrored Ezra’s position almost exactly - sprawled across the couch in boxers and a tee shirt, a blanket thrown half over their legs, and a bowl of beebleberry ice cream balanced on their stomachs. The Galagori flu really sucked, and what sucked even more was that Jacen wasn’t going to get to go to Poe’s ninth birthday party. And that was sad, because Jacen wanted to be there for his friend. Poe had lost his mom a little over six standard months ago in an awful crash, and one of the reasons they were having a party was an attempt at a pick-me-up, because the poor kid hadn’t been the same._

_And now Jacen was sick._

_He reached blindly for the box of tissues and swiped at his leaking nose._

_“I hate the Galagori Flu,” Jacen groaned, and tossed the very poorly aimed tissue towards the incinerator Ketsu had step up after complaining about catching the flu from dirty tissues._

_“I hate all flus,” Ezra countered, coughing into his elbow.  
_

_“I was supposed to be on Yavin by now,” Jacen moaned, and pulled his legs up to curl into a ball. “I was supposed to be at Poe’s house by now.”  
_

_Ezra huffed a thick-sounding sigh, and laid a clumsy hand on Jacen’s messy green hair._

_“I know, kid. It sucks.”  
_

_He rolled over, and pressed his nose into Ezra’s side, groaning._

_“I feel like bantha -”  
_

_“I hope you’re not planning on finishing that sentence, little wolf,” Hera said, entering the room, a bag of groceries on her hip, and a fond, disapproving tilt to her eyebrow. “You’re twelve years old, not twenty,” she said pointedly, with a look towards Ezra. Ezra shoved Jacen’s head off him, and gave her an innocent look.  
_

_“I dunno who you’re talking about, Hera, but it isn’t me. I’m not twenty.”  
_

_“No, you act more like you’re Jace’s age,” she replied, with a hand to each head. “Anyways, Jacen, I have a surprise for you.”  
_

_Jacen tilted his head up with a hopeful look on his pale face._

_“Is it a one-way trip to Poe’s birthday party?”  
_

_Hera sighed once, clearly trying to keep it as light as possible and turned away._

_“It isn’t. But you can send Poe his present.”  
_

_His face fell._

_“I’m sorry, love, I really am, but Galigori flu is very contagious, and you’re in no condition to leave the house.”  
_

_Jacen deflated, sighing once, a tiny little noise, and looked back at the holoscreen, where a Jedi that made her want cringe fought off a bounty hunter that looked strangely like Boba Fett - and struggled. The show was by no means accurate, but Jacen liked it, and Ezra liked mocking it, so it was a win-win for both boys._

_Anyways._

_“Baby...” Hera began, reaching from behind him to hug him, and kiss the top of his head. She wrinkled her nose. “You need a bath.”  
_

_A weak attempt at a smile appeared on her son’s face._

_“No, I’ve just been spending to much time around Ezra - his stench is rubbing off on him.”  
_

_Hera laughed lightly when Ezra reached across the distance between them to hit his shoulder clumsily._

_“As I was trying to say, you might not be able to go to Poe’s party, but I did bring some meilooruns home, and as soon as you’re better, I’m taking you out to Yavin to see Poe.”  
_

_Jacen’s face lit up, and he clambered to his knees on the couch until he could reach across the back and hug his mom._

_“Mom, you’re the best,” he swore, tilting his head up and smiling at her.  
_

_Hera smiled, and petted his head._

_“So are you, little wolf.”  
_

 

* * *

 

 

The  _Spirit_ thrums under Jacen’s hands as it cuts through the atmosphere of Lothal. He thinks it probably knows where it is, and the importance of it. Almost a month since he decided to go, and a lot has changed in just a few weeks. He glances at Hal, curled up in the copilot’s chair, wearing one of his shirts, and playing a shooter game on her ‘pad. The tip of her tongue is pinched between her canines, and her ears flick ever so often in concentration. A breath escaped his mouth in the shape of a laugh as he turns back to the console, and sends Ezra a message to let him know they were there.

They land in a few short minutes, and Hal is still focused solely on her game, so when Jacen unbuckles and stands, he ruffles her already unruly curls.

“We’re here, you know,” he tells her, as she howls once in annoyance when she fails the level.

“I was right there!” she lets him know, loudly, and follows him closely through the ship. “Right there, I was about to get through the door, and then  _you_ had to go and mess it up!”

Jacen shakes his head at her fondly as they stand at the top of the ramp as it lowers. She shoves him when he starts the descent, and he shoves her back, and they tumble out of the ship to land at paint-stained boots.

Jacen flips his hair out of her face, and tilts a sheepish grin up at Sabine Wren. Her hair is pink and green now, longer, looking more like when she was a teenager. Sabine rolls her eyes, but can’t stop a smile, and held out both her hands, hauling them to their feet. Jacen grins. Even though Bine is small, she is compact and stronger than Ezra, no matter what the Jedi will say.

He shuffles forward and leans down to hug her.

“Hey, Bine,” he says, and Sabine huffs in fake annoyance, and reaches to mess up his hair.

“Hey, kid. Still haven’t stop shooting up like a Nama-weed, huh?”

Jacen grins at her, and it was the same grin Kanan usedd to give Hera.

“No way. Gotta beat Ezra, don’t I?”

Sabine rolls her eyes at him, but her smile is  incredibly fond.

“Of course you do. He’s inside. Hey, Hal, come on, I wanna show you some new explosives I’ve been working on.”

Hal, who had been hanging back, lights up, her ears tilting forward.

“Yes! I was hoping you’d have something to keep my occupied,” Hal jokes, as Bine slings an arm around the half-Lasat’s shoulders, and head to her bunker-lab. 

Jacen stands with his hands on his hips watching them walk away, talking animatedly to each other, then shakes himself out of it, and heads to the top of Ezra’s tower.

The door at the top slides open to reveal a grinning Ezra in the doorway.

“Hey, Jacen!” he says, and wraps an arm around Jacen’s shoulders in a one-armed hug. “Ketsu went out to the city when you told us you were here. Come in, the place is kind of a mess, but at least Hera didn’t come, or we’d have to burn the place.”

Jacen laughs then, and kicks his boots off, and drops his coat on a hook at the door.

This place has always been home to Jacen - it was home before they lived on Ganthel, and it was a home when the  _Ghost_ was away. So making himself comfortable means leaving his shoes in a pile by the door, and rummaging through the refrigerator to find a snack, and hopping over the back of the couch Jacen has spent many nights on to flop next to Ezra.

Ezra lets him eat, and relax for a few moments, figuring the kid could use a break, but once he finishes his bowl of berries and sugar, he turns to Jacen and says,

“So, I think you should start from the beginning.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lothal’s nights are blue and purple, and Jacen feels something tickling the back of his neck as he walks in the swaying grass towards nowhere in particular. Apparently, this was a sure-fire way to get where you didn’t know you were supposed to go: wander aimlessly, and hope some Loth-wolves show up.

The tickling feeling on his neck finally gets strong enough that he turns around, and stumbles back a few steps to see three Loth-wolves just standing there, looking at him, and Jacen swallows.

What the hells was he supposed to do now?

“Uh... hi.”

Real eloquent, Syndulla, great job.

The biggest wolf - a white one turns to look over his shoulder towards the mountains, and Jacen gets the feeling that he is supposed to follow.

“So, I need to follow you?” he asks, and takes a step forward. “I thought you could talk. What am I doing here?”

The white wolf looks back at Jacen, and tilts its head.

“Dume,” it breathes, and Jacen knows that that was his father’s given name. Still doesn’t explain what the wolves have to do with Jacen.

“What about it? What about my father?” Jacen calls, feeling desperate suddenly as the wolves turn away. The white wolf looks over its shoulder one more time.

“Follow,” it commands him, so Jacen does.

They walk

and walk

and walk

and walk

until Jacen feels like his feet are going to fall off, and until he thinks the sun wil lrise, yet it stays  in a  blue and purple twilight that makes Jacen feel unnerved.

He’s always known he has some Force abilites - he just hadn’t expected them to come in the form of dreams.

And they walk

and walk 

and walk

 

* * *

 

 

Jacen thinks he must have dosed off, because suddenly there is a huge wolf, bigger than the white one, who sits tall and imposing, with a symbol on its forehead Jacen thinks is vaguely familiar.

“Young Dume,” it says, and lowers its head to Jacen’s height.

“Young Dume?” it says, and Jacen realizes it’s a question.

“Yes, yes,” he stutters out quickly, and ducks his head. “I am Jacen Syndulla. Kanan Jarrus - Caleb Dume, he was my father.”

The wolf snuffs at him once, twice, then settles on its haunches, and turns to look over his shoulder.

“Go.”

Jacen swallows again, then squares his shoulders, and walks forward. There’s mist, and he can’t quite see, but then a shape coalesces in the fog, the shape of a man, and he squints.

Suddenly, the fog clears, and the man is Kanan Jarrus. He faces the rising sun, his hands held loosely behind his back, and Jacen stops stock still.

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He shuts his mouth, then opens it, and tries again.

“Dad?” he asks, and its more of a whisper than he’d like.

The man - his father - turns around smiling, and its a smile Jacen knows.

“Hello, little wolf,” Kanan says, and the familiarity and love and adoration in his voice almost knocks Jacen to the ground, almost knocks the breath right out of his lungs.

“Dad...” There were so many things Jacen wanted to say - so many things he had planned, sad things, angry things, happy things - but all that came out was

“You’re not blind.”

Kanan smiles again, and its that smile Jacen had seen in holos of Kanan training Ezra, and he would say something obvious, and a little stupid, but all Kanan would do was smile a fond smile, and answer his question.

“No,” he says, and sits on his knees, patting the ground beside him. “But I’m not actually here, you know.”

Jacen sits next to his father, mirroring his position without thinking about it, and ducks his head.

“So it’s all in my head? It’s not real?”

“Just because it’s in your head, doesn’t make it not real,” Kanan says gently, and lays a hand on Jacen’s shoulder.

“You know, I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

Jacen nods, because  _of course_  he had. Why wouldn’t he?

“You saved my life when I was seven.”

Kanan laughs a little.

“Yes. I wasn’t sure if I could save you from something so big -”

“Wait, so you’d done things before then?” Jacen demands, interrupting, and Kanan laughs again, and nods.

“Of course I did. What kind of dead father do you take me for?”

Jacen sobers, and he frowns a little.

“A dead one.”

His father looks up, squints at the sun.

“I had to do it. There was no way you all could have survived if I hadn’t stopped the fire.”

Jacen swallows. Even so, it was hard to reconcile. Ezra had told him about the portal, and how he had a chance to save Kanan, but didn’t. Instead of saying that, Jacen reaches and pulls a metal cylinder from his belt, holding it in his palm, an offering.

“Sabine was able to save your lightsaber.”

Instead of taking it, Kanan curled Jacen’s fingers around it.

“It’s yours now. I dunno what I could do with it, anyways,” he said, in a light voice. Then he looks up suddenly, sharply, and squints at the sun again.

“We’re almost out of time.”

Jacen looks sharply at his father, and his mouth drops open.

“But - I have so many questions - about the wolves - about the Jedi, and what it was like, and your master, and -”

His father cuts him off with a soft, _“Jacen.”_

Jacen stops talking, but can’t stop the tears welling up in his eyes. He just got his father back - had him, right here in his reach, and he was already almost gone.

“What am I supposed to do?” Jacen asks pleadingly. “I know there’s something - something is going to happen - but  _what_? And  _when_? And what am I supposed to do about it?”

Kanan smiles, and it’s on the grim side. He takes Jacen’s hand that holds the lightsaber, and puts both his hands around his, and squeezes.

“Fight. And trust the Force - and Hal,” he adds with a knowing smile, and Jacen ducks his head, turning red.  “But remember, little wolf. I will be with you always.  _Always_.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ezra, Sabine, Ketsu, and Hal are all sitting up at the table when Jacen slips inside as quietly as possible.

Hal jumps to her feet when she sees him, and leans her hands on the tabletop.

“Well?”

The adults seem just as eager as she does in waiting his answer. As Jacen thinks how to answer, he looks each of them in the face:

Hal, eager, and hopeful, and a little worried.

Ketsu, curious, like a kid studying a bug - and that was the way Ketsu was.

Sabine, interested, and concerned, and ready to punch someone if he asked.

And Ezra, inviting, and open, like a teacher wanting questions.

And Jacen says,

“It’s good.”

He holds up his hand, still holding the lightsaber, and remembers his father’s smile.

There was something out there, in the galaxy, waiting, festering, dark, but no matter what it was, Jacen would be ready for it, ready to fight it, because he had Hal, and he had Poe, and he had his family - he had his father.

No matter what happens, Jacen would be ready and waiting.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Little wolf.”_

Jacen opens his eyes to the darkness of the cabin. He slides out from under Hal, curled on his chest, and puts his bare feet on the cool metal floor. The Spirit is floating in realspace, aimless until they decided where they were going.

But now he knows somewhere he needs to go.

Behind him, Hal shifts, stretches like a cat, and her hand curls against the small of his back.

“Hey,” she says, groggy, and lifts her head, her curls a haphazard sleep-mussed mop.

Jacen tilts his head to look at her, and catches her hand in his.

“I know where we need to go.”

Hal pushes up on one elbow, and nods.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 

Takodana is sprawling and warm and beautiful, and s light breeze plays with the tips of Jacen’s hair, and the hem of his shirt. He glaces at Hal, who stretches her arms, and purrs under her breath, not even aware of it, but it makes his breath catch. She looks up at him, and grins, baring her fangs, and grabs his hand, pulling him forward.

“Come on, I’ve never been to Takodana,” she says, practically skipping, and Jacen snorts.

“Hal, you haven’t been to many places at all,” he retorts, teasing, and Hal elbows him in the ribs, and glares at him, but it’s without heat.

“You shut up, Syndulla,” she said, and can’t keep a smile off her face.

“Yeah, well, now I’ll take you to all those places now,” Jacen told her, and Hal knows a promise when she hears one.

Jacen leads her by the hand to a huge stone castle, covered in flags and in the middle of the courtyard is a massive statue of a woman from a species Hal hadn’t seen before.

“What exactly is this place?” Hal asks in awe.

“This is Maz Kanata’s place,” Jacen says, and pushes the huge wooden doors open, to reveal a cantina thick with smoke, the sound of voices, and the smell of beer. They step through the threshold, and Jacen doesn’t mind when Hal goes stock still, eyes widening, as she takes it all in. A sly smile slides across her face and into place, and she tilts her head back to look at him. 

“So why are w-”

Hal can’t finish her sentence, because suddenly a shrill voice shrieks,

_“Janan **DUMA!** ”_

And everyone freezes, turning to stare at the two new-comers. Hal nudges him, concerned, and also curious because  _Janan Duma?_  but Jacen manages a confidant grin as all eyes then turn to Maz Kanata from where she stands on top of the bar, motioning for him to come over.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” he asked Hal under his breath, and she glares at him. Why would he ever think it was okay to say those words.

As they walk over to her, the people go back to their activities, and everything settles back into its groove. Maz is mixing up a complicated drink as they approached her, and Jacen turns on a charming smile, and leans an elbow on the counter.

“Hey, Maz,” he says, all smiles and charm, but Maz is immune, and turns unnaturally large eyes on the two of them that makes Hal jump.’

“What do you call this, showing up out of nowhere after three years of nothing?” she demands. Jacen actually looks sheepish, and scrubs at the back of his neck.

“Sorry, Maz, I really am. I would’ve come sooner, but,” he spread his hands, “a lot of things happened.”

Maz squints at him, and for a long moment, Jacen is a little worried she is going to stay on the topic, but then she beams at him, and by his side, Hal visibly relaxes. He probably should have warned her.

“Well, you’ll just have to make it up to me, hmm? Come, come, sit with me, tell me all about what’s been going on, starting...” she levels a knowing look at Hal, “With this young lady.”

So he does, albeit red and stuttering, while Hal buries her head in her hands. Honestly, this is like having a nosy, yet well-meaning aunt, who also gives them half-priced drinks.

“I guess I’ve always liked her,” Jacen finishes, looking over at Hal, who holds his gaze with a soft smile. “I just never actually realized how much.”

“But I don’t think we’re telling our family yet, right?” Hals asks, leaning on the table, a flint in her eyes. “First of all, we need a spectacular and shocking way of telling them, but also, they would never let us live it down. Never.”

Maz nods, looking pleased, and leans in conspiratorially.

“Well, if you want my opinion, if you want a spectacular and shocking way of telling them, maybe you should just let them walk in on you,” Maz says with a suggestive nod, and teasing wink, that made Hal turn dark purple, and Jacen flush. But it’s funny, and  _true_ , so neither of them mind.

But then Jacen sobers, and he tells Maz about his dreams, and going to Lothal, and then he pulls his lightsaber from where it was hidden on his belt.

“I know you have Anakin Skywalker’s. And I also know that you are the one person I can trust to keep this safe until I need it.”

Maz leans forward on her elbows, and her goggles click as her eyes grow hug.

There is depth to his eyes that Maz has seen in few people, and he doesn’t look away, or back down, and she also knows those eyes. Those eyes do not lie. Those eyes have very little fear. This was no joke to him, and neither was it one to her. 

She sits back on her seat, satisfied, and says,

“If you want me to keep it, I will. It will not be unprotected, and it will await your return, as will I.” She takes the lightsaber, and it disappears into her belt. “May the Force guide your way, young Dume,” she tells him in benediction, and Jacen bows his head in acknowledgment.

“Thank you, Maz. I hope I don’t have to come for it any time soon.”

Maz looks grim as she stands.

“I am afraid we both know that is not possible.”

Jacen stands as well, and leans across to catch her wrist.

“Even so, doesn’t mean I won’t do everything I can to stop it.”

 

* * *

 

 

As they leave, Hal leans against Jacen, and taps his sternum.

“What do you see?” she asks quietly. Jacen’s sky-blue eyes are trained on the horizon, like he can see the storm clouds building there.

“Darkness,” he replies, and doesn’t say anything else about it.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Epilogue**

 

The Ganthel sky is covered with a thick, smothering blanket of thunder clouds, and Jacen stands on the edge of the apartment’s balcony, hands on his hips. His eyes are shut as he listens with all of his being. Half the galaxy is telling him that peace is warm and comforting, and it’s time to sleep - the other half tells him now is when he must stay the most alert.

The sound sounds of feet padding their way across the carpet tells him he is no longer alone, but Jacen is not afraid. He opens his eyes, and smiles at Hal, wearing one of his shirts, and nothing else, looking sleepy and amazing.

He leans down to kiss her lightly, and she hums.

“What do you see?” she asks, like she always does, as her fingers dance across his ribs.

“You,” he answers, as he always does, the pads of his fingers skating across her shoulders, “Always you.”

 

 

(War came suddenly to the galaxy, and no one could stop it, not even Jacen Syndulla, son of Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight, and Hera Syndulla, pilot, general, hero.)

(War came and tore the love of Poe’s life away from him, and no one did anything about it.)

(War came.)

**Author's Note:**

> i am so happy to have written this, and i am so happy y'all've made it this far to read my very pathetic out-tro ha
> 
> i love and appreciate all of you and if you have any questions about the fic, or just want to chat, hmu on tumblr @spectrseven :D <3


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